#May continue we shall see | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sailxrmxrs · 2 years ago

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back in may i brainrotted with friends over some of the infinite blue boys under the mistletoe and now that the holiday season is upon us what better way to celebrate than by indulging in it once more? especially after the mistletoe thoughts in the server too my brain is WHIRRING. that being said i've only ever seen mistletoe once before and it was on a uni night out at the su so not quite the wholesome romance vibes we're going for here. expect something a tad softer for today tonight at least maybe we get spicy another day. this one's the first of multiple christmas themed hcs rattling in my brain so get ready for more snow, more presents, and even more softness. the premise for this one is infinite blue on holiday!! mc and the boys are staying in a cosy cabin out in the middle of nowhere, there's a thick layer of snow outside and perhaps a sprig of mistletoe or two fixed to the door frame. adorable scenarios ensue. enjoy!!

♡ leo ♡

It was the first night in the cabin and the holiday excitement was well under way. There was an array of decorations adorning the walls, strings of lights casting the living room in a warm golden hue to fight against the biting nip of winter's chill. The place looked so delightfully cosy, a fireplace crackling in the corner and arrays of blankets strewn over the furnishings. It was the embodiment of comfort, perfectly designed to enjoy with the others in a much-needed break from regular life. As night fast approached, everyone had begun to settle in to their rooms, some unpacking while others abandoned their things in favour of securing the comfiest seat with the best view of the tv screen. There was a particular energy that had descended upon the cabin, as though electricity was cracking from room to room, bringing with it anticipation for what was to come. You were resting in your room, tired from the arduous task of unpacking when a knock sounded at the door. Too comfortable to move, you called out for them to come in. Leo's face peered from behind the door, his hat peeking out before his face.

"The guys are ordering pizza if you're hungry?"

"Yes. But too comfy."

Leo laughed, making his way over to perch next to you. "Am I going to have to carry you there?"

"A tempting offer, but no. Pull me up though?" You held out a hand for Leo to take hold of, letting him help you onto your feet. Once you were upright again, Leo swung your arms back and forth for a moment, smiling at the raising of your eyebrow. He chuckled, one hand still holding onto yours as he made for the open door and led you down the hall. In the living room, Brooklyn and Rory were trying to write everyone's pizza orders while Tobias fought to have pineapple on at least one. It was somewhat of a pointless battle, given that he was the only one with such a strong opinion but it was still amusing regardless. Brooklyn's notes were meticulous as he checked through everyone's orders before leaving it to Rory to call up and order the food. A quiet settled over the room, Alexei reaching for the tv remote. You contemplated returning to your room for a quick nap to stave off some of the lingering tiredness until Milo spoke up.

"You two know you're stood right under some mistletoe, right?" Milo asked, leaning back in his seat to watch your faces shift in realisation. Clearly he was satisfied with what he saw, judging by the way his lips quirked into a sly smile. Chaos descended upon the room, attention on you and Leo, the food order forgotten. Tobias started chanting for the two of you to kiss while Rory begged for you to restore some peace and finally just kiss each other. Brooklyn and Alexei were beaming at it all, quietly smiling with stars in their eyes at the romance movie scene they were watching play out right before their very eyes.

You felt Leo's hand twitch in yours, a reminder that he was still holding onto you even amongst the clamour. He cleared his throat, turning to you with abject embarrassment. "Should we maybe go somewhere a little more private?"

"Yeah go make out somewhere else so you don't spoil our appetites," Tobias playfully called out. "Don't be gone too long or I'm eating your share of the food." With a roll of his eyes, Leo nodded in the direction of your rooms and walked, pointedly ignoring the calls and whistles from the others.

"Sorry about that. Seems like the vacation's got them feeling a little bolder than usual." Leo tried to laugh it off, those it was evident in his cheeks that there was something more hidden there.

You shook your head. "It's fine. All part of the festive season, right?"

"Right." Leo paused, shuffling on his feet as he tried to gather his thoughts together. "You know we don't have to. I don't want you doing anything you're not comfortable with. Don't let the others make you feel like you have to."

"I'm okay. As long as they're not watching anyway."

Leo glanced back down the hallway, turning back with a thumbs up. "Coast is clear. But really, we don't have to—"

"Are you deflecting there, Leo? It's fine if you are but I—"

"No! No! That's not it! I do want to. Kiss you, that is. God I'm making this weird, aren't I?"

Shaking your head, you took Leo's hands in yours, feeling the ever so slight tremor of nerves coming from the contact. "Not at all," you whispered against his lips, finally closing the gap. Leo responded instinctively, as though this were second nature to him. Until he pulled back abruptly.

"Wait. It's not the same without the mistletoe." He looked around frantically, spotting a loose sprig that had fallen to the floor and retrieving it. He held it over his head, grinning. "There we go." The second kiss was just as magical as the first, and all the others that followed.

♡ milo ♡

Milo is not one for tradition, rolling his eyes at the sight of the mistletoe hanging above the door frame. Of course someone had the bright idea to hang it up there. He was adamant that he wanted nothing to do with any of it which then led to days of dodging Tobias or Leo whenever they passed by him through the door, knowing they'd take any opportunity to bother him with clamours of how you can't just break the rules like that. Milo fully intended to break the rules like that. He didn't care how much the others might complain about his lack of festive cheer, just as long as he didn't have to partake. Although, that being said, Milo wouldn't have minded if it were you collaring him under the mistletoe. Not that he was going to admit it any time soon, but he didn't hate the idea quite so much when you were the subject. Still, regardless of his affections he wasn't going to rescind his comments of uninterest. There would be no end of jokes and lighthearted remarks about how Milo cared about you more than anyone else, that he was showing clear favouritism. They'd be completely accurate accusations to make, of course, but Milo wasn't planning on becoming such an easy target like that.

So he abandoned all thoughts of taking your hands in his under the mistletoe and kissing you until he was almost breathless. he definitely did not ponder the thought when he laid in bed awake that night, sleep eluding him. No matter how he twisted and turned under the sheets, Milo just couldn't drift asleep. So he dragged himself out of the warmth in search of a hot cup of tea and honey to soothe his restlessness. Whether the remedy would actually work or not, he wasn't sure, but Brooklyn seemed to swear by the late night drink so there must be some kernel of truth floating in it. He quietly padded down the hallway, careful to preserve the silence that consumed the cabin. The lights were all off, bathing the cabin in cold darkness that not even the distant pearlescent glow of the moon could illuminate. It took all of Milo's concentration to not bump into any obstacles that he could've sworn weren't there before. In his intense focus, Milo couldn't see the moving shadow that was heading in his direction until it slammed straight into him, a small gasp coming from the other victim of the collision.

Now that he was close enough, Milo could just make out the sight of your briefly scared features. You were carrying a glass of water, though most of it was now either on the floor or soaking through your shirt.

"Ah, shit sorry I can barely see in this light," Milo whispered, leaning past you to reach for a towel sitting on the kitchen counter. It was rare for you to be so close to Milo, in particular alone, and so you couldn't help the quickening pace of your heart. If anything, you were at least grateful for the low light to hide the evidence of his effect on you. He reached a hand to guide you toward him, the other blotting with the towel where the water had spilt.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. "I can dry myself off it's fine."

"I bumped into you it's only fair I fix it, isn't it?" Milo wasn't giving you any leverage in the situation, maintaining his hold on your arm. Despite your rapid heartbeat, the gesture was rather nice. Until, at least, it dawned on you exactly which doorway the both of you were stood under. It was the exact doorway Milo had been avoiding like the plague whenever anyone else walked underneath it while he was close by.

"Why do you look like that it's only a bit of water. Ah. Right." It seemed the realisation had also dawned on Milo as he glanced up at the door frame. He sighed, returning the towel to its spot on the counter. "You know we don't have to do it, right? The others aren't watching so no one has to know if you break the rules. It's fine."

Your voice is quiet, eyes looking anywhere but at Milo. "I mean, I'm not opposed to it."

Milo's eyes widened. It was ever so rare for him to be caught off guard like this and yet here you were, managing to do just that. But even in his surprise, Milo did not wish to discard the opportunity at hand as he reached to take your face in his hands, pressing his lips to yours in what he intended to be a swift and subtle move. But one taste of your lips on his sent Milo's mind in a dizzying spiral. Was this really what he'd been missing out on in all this time of knowing you? Suddenly all his disdain and admonishing for the tradition have been thrown onto the embers of the log fire still leaving a faint warmth in the room that hugged you both. All he can bear to think of in that moment is you and how you leaned against him, deepening the kiss with each second that passed.

"Maybe mistletoe isn't quite so bad after all."

♡ rory ♡

Ever since he spotted Tobias gleefully snickering to himself as he put up an abundance of mistletoe, Rory was counting down the days until he was free. It wasn't that he hated the group excursion nor their company, but rather he didn't particularly care for certain romantic traditions that Tobias seemed more than excited to partake in. Especially given the others' insistence on making not-so-subtle hints about who Rory should kiss under the mistletoe. No matter how many times Rory insisted that he didn't want to kiss anyone, under mistletoe or otherwise, they wouldn't let up. Admittedly, a small part of him was lying when he said he didn't have any interest in the idea. After all, he was a romance reader, though he would never dare to share the fact with anyone else, and as such his mind had often wandered while thinking of all kinds of sweet festive traditions to partake in with a loved one. Whether Rory actually wanted to indulge or not wasn't important, given the fact he couldn't when there were five other people around to witness it happen. Catching a moment alone with you would be increasingly difficult as the week continued, and Rory wasn't planning to subject himself, or you for that matter, to the inevitable teasing should anyone witness it.

As it turned out, the opportunity to catch a moment alone with you came much sooner than Rory anticipated. Milo, Brooklyn, and Alexei were to go out to stock up some food for the kitchen and upon hearing of their plans, Leo and Tobias ran to join them. You declined their offer in favour of taking a little nap whilst Rory just lifted the book he'd been attempting to focus on; he'd rather underestimated his ability to read when there were six other people about the place. With just you for company, Rory knew he could relax in peace. That was, until instead of returning to your room to nap, you joined him on the sofa. You laid on the soft cushioning, feet using Rory's thighs as a rest.

"Comfortable, are we?" He asked, throwing the blanket beside him at your face. In spite of all the pushing Rory liked to do, he was soft. Especially with you. And you knew that more than anyone. Of course you'd never bring it up to him, but you were acutely aware of how much nicer Rory always seemed to be around you. He could be mid argument with someone else but would immediately find his voice going quieter and softening the moment you spoke to him. It was sweet, even if he'd never admit to it himself.

"Incredibly so. What are you reading, by the way?"

"Nothing special. Just something I found in the other room." Rory was usually never this evasive when talking about his books. Unless he had a reason to be embarrassed about them.

"Avoiding the question. Interesting. Guess I'll have to just find out myself, hm?" Before Rory could react or figure out your next move, you lunged forward to grab the book out of Rory's hands. You were careful to keep a thumb in his page so as not to anger him too much, but quickly bounded off with it in hand. Rory ran after you, knowing his calls to give it back were completely pointless. He followed you into the hallway, getting close enough to grab your wrist and cage you against the wall. The arm in his grasp was held up to the wall while the hand that still clutched his book remained free. But in the excitement of it all, you were suddenly very aware of how close Rory was, his breathing slightly laboured from the exertion of running after you. Neither of you moved, too busy staring each other down. The book in your hand fell to the floor with a resounding thud, pulling you from Rory's captivating gaze for a few short moments. It was in that time you noticed the spare mistletoe sitting atop the bookshelf next to you. Rory glanced over, quickly taking note before he looked back at your face, a thumb and forefinger catching your chin and guiding it so you had no choice but to face him again.

Rory leaned impossibly close, his nose almost brushing against yours as he whispered, "I think next to mistletoe counts under the rules, don't you?"

"It'd be remiss for us to break the rules." Then Rory captured you in a kiss. There was something urgent in the way you both reacted to one another. Each brush of his fingertips along the skin of your arm sent shivers down your spine, a tingling energy passing through every inch of your body. Rory let the hand that held your wrist against the wall fall to your neck, his touch featherlight as though you might break if he used any small amount of pressure. His other hand moved to brace himself on the wall, fearing his knees might buckle from the way you tangled your fingers in his flame red hair. Pulling back to catch your brain, you rested your forehead against Rory's. As you opened your eyes, the sight of his blushing face met yours, the flush of colour reaching even his ears.

Rory cleared his throat, taking a step back from the wall. "Yes. Well. Anyway." He walked back in the direction of the living room, the book a long-forgotten entity as it lay on the floor. by your feet. Giggling to yourself, you leaned down to pick it up, sliding it into Rory's hands with a swift kiss to his cheek as you bounded back over to the sofa, heart bursting with the magic of a dozen fairy tales.

♡ alexei ♡

When you set eyes on the mistletoe adorning the doorways, a nervous dread sunk to the pit of your stomach. You'd never really paid much mind to the tradition before but something about the whole atmosphere surrounding the group trip during winter had your senses tingling with anticipation. Those nerves were only made worse by Alexei's oblivious excitement. His eyes sparkled under the glowing christmas lights as everyone began to settle in to the cosy new living quarters for the next week. What you weren't aware of, however, was how meticulously orchestrated the decor had been. Brooklyn and Tobias had specifically requested for mistletoe to be included among all the decorations that filled each room. Both were determined for this to be the occasion where you and Alexei finally stopped skirting around the very obvious feelings you harboured for one another. Brooklyn as the group's primary lover of all things romance adjacent and Tobias as the resident agent of mischief were a recipe for chaos of the most dangerous kind. One could never truly predict what they had planned between them, and this trip was no exception.

One evening a few days after arriving, everyone had gathered to pick out a christmas movie to watch together. It was mostly just Leo debating with Milo over whether or not Elf was overrated—it had reached a point where they'd both forgotten the core argument and so now it'd devolved into an incoherent back-and-forth. The sight was rather entertaining, especially since Rory was sat between them looking as though he wanted nothing more than to be suddenly whisked away anywhere but that spot on the sofa. You were sat stop some cushions scattered about the floor, blankets strewn between, peacefully observing all that was occurring. Tobias was beside you, his back against the sofa where Alexei was sitting. Brooklyn was off in the kitchen getting himself a drink when he called out for some help. You and Alexei were the only two to get up and head toward the kitchen door, the others unable to hear him over Leo and Milo's emphatic debate. Besides Tobias, that was, who was far too comfortable to consider moving even an inch.

"Need a hand with something?" You asked, pausing in the doorway to watch Brooklyn. Alexei was quietly looking up, admiring the floral decorations that embellished the threshold. Noticing his distracted state, you followed Alexei's line of sight to the white mistletoe. Ah. Your cheeks warmed at the realisation that the both of you were stood beneath it. Brooklyn was clearly pleased with himself judging by the smirk that he tried to hide unsuccessfully behind his glass of water.

"Did you know there's all kinds of species of mistletoe? Depending on the continent there's all kinds of slight variations between them that changes the number of leaves or even their texture—wait, why are you so red? Do you have a fever?" Alexei cut his energetic ramble short upon noticing the tinge of pink that spread across your cheeks. He held the back of his hand to your forehead feeling the blossoming warmth that only grew with his physical touch. If you'd been flustered before at the sight of the mistletoe, this was a whole other level of discomposed nervousness.

"You feel pretty warm. Do you want to lay down? I can get you some water?" It was cute how much Alexei was worrying over your wellbeing, even if it was a little misguided.

"Oh my god they're not sick, Alexei," Tobias shouted from across the room. "It's the mistletoe so leave the science lesson for later and just kiss them!"

Now came the time for Alexei's cheeks to flush with warmth at Tobias' direct words. It seemed to only just dawn upon him the more socially understood meaning of mistletoe. He nervously looked over to you seeking some sort of confirmation that Tobias was right and you weren't sick at all. Upon your faint nod confirming that you were quiet because you had, in fact, been sequestered underneath the mistletoe with Alexei. The smug look shared between Brooklyn and Tobias hadn't escaped your notice, prompting a mental note to have strong words with the both of them later once Alexei was out of earshot. There was no escape for either of you, knowing that no matter what you tried there'd be some form of teasing comment poking fun at your evasiveness.

Alexei cleared his throat, eyes darting around until they finally settled on you. His fingers reached for yours, a tentative question hovering in the air like waves of electricity. "Is this okay?" He asks, his voice quiet even now that Milo and Leo's debate had died down to bear witness to the scene before them.

You nod despite the warmth that still flamed in your face as you held Alexei's gaze. If you looked anywhere near any of the others there was no doubt you'd just crumble under the attention. Judging by Alexei's own pinkish face, he was likely feeling the exact same way. Still, he did not back down and instead leaned in for a kiss almost as soft as himself. It was fleeting. Gentle. But it was all you needed in that moment. His hands toyed with yours, a fumbling mess of extremities as Tobias and Leo let out exaggerated cheers, the former playfully chastising the both of you for taking so long to make such a move. But despite the embarrassment that flooded over both you and Alexei, it could never override the intense wave of happiness that crashed against it—even if it did come at the cost of having your first kiss with Alexei in direct view of the whole group.

♡ brooklyn ♡

Brooklyn is so in love with love that the instant he sees the mistletoe he's determined to craft the most picture-perfect scene fresh from a romantic novel. There are few things in the world he adores more than you, and so he is set on creating only beautiful memories in the cabin, mistletoe traditions very much included. In fact he is so set on the moment being perfect that you grow almost concerned by the slight distance. During game nights there is always some part of him that isn't fully focused, attention drifting to the myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind's eye. Whenever you asked if he was okay, or inquired as to what he was thinking about, Brooklyn answered with his usual charming smile that he was feeling excellent. Usually when Brooklyn evaded such questions it meant he had some sort of plan slowly unfolding as he sat and pondered during his waking hours. Knowing there was little you could do to find out more, you left Brooklyn to his own devices; he always confided in you when he was ready so you knew that whatever it was occupying his thoughts would soon be revealed in some manner of speaking.

One afternoon you and Brooklyn were lounging in a private corner of the cabin, distant sounds of Leo, Alexei, and Tobias laughing together coming from down the hallway. Brooklyn had a book in hand, one that you'd bought him recently after seeing the beautiful leather volume in a small bookshop on your way home from work one evening. Your feet lay in his lap as you fought the urge to drift asleep. Brooklyn's fingers traced soothing patterns on your legs, the rhythmic feel lulling you closer to your inevitable slumber.

"Ah, ah. No sleeping yet. Otherwise you'll be awake all night, my dear," Brooklyn spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you both. He gently tapped your calf, realising his absentminded ministrations were partly to blame for your sleepy state.

"Just five minutes," came your reply, the words bleeding into one another as you struggled to remain coherent.

"Five minutes will become ten, then fifteen, until suddenly you've slept for two hours. Come on, up you get." Brooklyn moved your feet from his lap, hands reaching to pull you up with him. His chuckle reverberated in the air as you let your body go limp while he carefully dragged you to your feet.

"Two hours sleep sounds great right now," you replied, rubbing at the dull ache of tiredness lingering in your eyes.

Brooklyn smiled, his hands sitting on your waist while he admired every line and crevice of your face. "But then I'd be ever so lonely without someone to talk to."

"Then you should sleep too." Stifling a yawn, you leaned into Brooklyn's chest for a few moments of bliss. You knew napping would only ruin your sleep later but the temptation was oh-so-strong. Especially when Brooklyn's company was so undeniably calming. The man could simply be breathing and it'd put you at ease no matter what—he just had that effect on people.

"I think I'll pass on that one, darling. After all, if we were to sleep now then who's to say when we'd find another opportunity to kiss under the mistletoe?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Hm? What mistletoe?"

"Look up there." Brooklyn nodded in the direction of the door where, lo and behold, some mistletoe decorated the door frame. "You know how much I adore traditions, especially of the romantic variety. Would you do me the honour?"

"How could I ever turn down such a request?" You both laughed in unison at the overly formal wording, something you would frequently do when speaking, much to Tobias' chagrin; whenever he overheard it Tobias would loudly proclaim how the interactions made him cringe. His complaints, however, were never as serious as he tried to make them sound nor did they deter you or Brooklyn from speaking in such a manner. If anything, his reactions only encouraged the both of you to speak as outrageously as possible.

Brooklyn's features cooled into a relaxed smile as his grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling you close against him while his other hand reached to tangle in your hair. He angled your face to mold with his perfectly as though it was made for him and him alone. Brooklyn let you set the pace, following your lead perfectly under the warm glow of the christmas lights that adorned the walls. The slow movement of his thumb against your waist was dizzying in all the best ways. His lips were delightfully soft, ever the gentleman as he paused to gaze fondly upon your face with a look of wonder decorating his features before he left another electrifying kiss to your lips. Suddenly you felt eternally grateful toward whoever had hung that mistletoe.

♡ tobias ♡

Upon decorating the cabin together for the festive season, it had been Tobias' brilliant idea to introduce mistletoe into the decor. Much to the chagrin of the others, Tobias ignored all complaints as he secured the flower above the doorway into the living room. He'd looked incredibly proud of himself as he met your gaze across the room. The man was on a mission to catch you off guard and indulge in the tradition, no matter how loud the others might object each time he lamented the lack of festive spirit. Every time you ventured to find something to eat or grab a glass of water you were met with the sight of Tobias leaning against the doorframe gazing wistfully up at the mistletoe. He'd pretend not to notice your presence, letting out a dramatic sigh before dragging his eyes over to you and offering the most poorly acted look of surprise you'd ever seen. Then would come the beckoning hand in an attempt to lure you over.

"Isn't it painfully cold today? Oh how I crave the warmth and affection of the love of my life," he would call out, waiting expectantly for you to take his hand. Every time you'd laugh and evade his grasp, revelling in his pout as he whined over the lack of attention. Tobias loved to act all confident but, in reality, he was completely and utterly soft at heart—not that he'd ever let the others see that side of him, of course. Tobias' softest moments were all the more special because they were only for you. And it only made his more daring advances all the more entertaining, knowing exactly how easily he crumbled whenever you returned his amorous teasing in the comfort of your privacy.

Tonight was no different. You were sat between Rory and Milo watching a movie while Brooklyn and Leo were attempting to cook. Alexei was off taking a little nap and Tobias was lingering beneath the mistletoe with his eyes on the tv for now, though he wasn't really watching. The night was calm and surprisingly quiet given the usual high energy that the cabin's residents brought with them. But it was nice. Calming, even, to be sat in pleasant quiet with just the sounds of food being prepared and the tv buzzing along. Though you might have liked it more with Tobias sitting at your side and sharing the blanket that kept you cosy. The man in question was still quietly leaning against the door frame, now watching on as Leo followed Brooklyn's instructions for the meal. Feeling a pang of thirst strike, you rose from your seat, already missing the warmth of your blanket.

Sensing the perfect opportunity for another romantic endeavour, Tobias straightened and moved to block the doorway, his face an exquisite artwork of teasing mischief. "Hello, you."

It was hard to even pretend to be mad at him. "Hi. Did you know you make an excellent wall?" You asked, unable to keep yourself from smiling as he leaned closer.

"No entry, I'm afraid. Can't have you disturbing the chefs. Unless you pay the toll." His face was close enough to yours that he could've easily kissed you if he wanted, but for Tobias the playful exchange built up a sense of tension that he found intoxicating. The light-hearted push-and-pull is what had made him so enamoured by you in the first place.

Nodding along, you humoured Tobias' bit. "I see. Do tell what this mysterious toll is."

"Oh, it is but a mere kiss beneath the mistletoe. It's been so terribly long since someone indulged me in the classic christmas tradition, you know?"

"Funnily enough, we did know. Since you always manage to bring it up," Rory called out from the sofa, his eyes not leaving his phone screen.

Tobias' lazy smile twisted into a frustrated pout at the interruption, now focusing his attention on the redhead. "Some of us are trying to live out their rom-com dreams here, Rory."

"Clearly. So do it. Go on, kiss them. Right now. So the rest of us can go on without hearing you whine about how much you want to kiss them."

Tobias faltered at Rory's direct callout, mouth slightly agape as he looked back at you. There was apprehension in his face, nerves suddenly flooding his system when you quirked an eyebrow inviting him to follow through on Rory's provocation. Tobias contemplates his options, knowing he might never live it down if he doesn't seize the opportunity laid out in front of him and so, puffing out his chest just a little, his face sets into one of determination.

"Fine. I will." Then Tobias' hands are cupping your cheeks, warm to the touch as he leans in ever closer. Tobias pauses, checking that this is what you want before closing that too-far gap. And suddenly you're kissing beneath the mistletoe. The world falls silent, everything and everyone reduced to nothing as Tobias consumes each and every thought trapped inside your head. His lips are soft and exploratory, eager to keep the exchange somewhat reserved given the public display you were putting on. Tobias pulled back with the gentlest of nips to your bottom lip, his hesitant shyness dissipating to reveal a raging fire in his eyes. He moves to take your lips once more before Milo groans for the two of you to 'get a room' before his appetite gets spoiled. Fuelled by sheer adoration and delight, Tobias doesn't care about the interruption, instead pulling you in close and engulfing you in his arms while his laugh chimes. His face is a beautiful shade of blush crimson as he slowly rocks you from side to story, pressing a kiss to your forehead and savouring every second of your embrace.

#infinite blue #infinite blue fanfic #infinite blue x reader #and so begins the christmas arc of my tumblr #how long will it last we shall see #yes i went back to the old brainrot from may to influence this bc past me had more braincells #i wish i remembered where all my other crumbs of brainrot are scattered bc my brain for sure does not remember 99% of it #ah well we vibe and continue on with the new brainrot #anna writes

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irnhero · 2 years ago

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chronicle of the blaze posts i've seen around

random photo of rihanna

bird photography (very tasteful)

just a stack of hundred dollar bills. no caption.

creepy rabit costume, multiple appearances

various thirst traps

a proposal of marriage?

someone who got tumblr on 11/10/2022 at 8:23 CST to buy 3 sets of blue checkmarks

LONG monolog in title text style concerning the sexual behavior of j.r.r. tolkien's elves

#may continue this post #we shall see #tumblr #tumblr blaze #shitpost

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drengar · 6 months ago

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Moving Update!

I think Berto and I have a rough idea, this one mentioned by his dad who is doing a lot of the improvements to our condo, on when we can move in. It's looking like it's closer to June 13th. It really depends on when the bed is being moved but this date I feel is more likely than the others. I'll still keep you guys in the loop on things tho!

#gun aghaidh「 ooc: mun things 」#[now i shall continue to pick away at things]#[i may post a lot of headcanons]#[but idk at the moment what i feel like doing]#[so we shall see]

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aemondsbabe · 5 months ago

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Deliverance

summary: following your nephew's death, you find aemond in need of comfort. as his older sister, who are you to deny him?

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon death, infidelity technically but reader's husband is cool with it and understands that she comes from a weirdo family cough cough incest cough, lactation kink, hurt/comfort, piv sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, titty sucking, angst but happy ending, otto cameo ew, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.4k

a/n: *slams fist on table* i need for him to suck on my boobie

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @feodor-dostoevsky

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“Shall I fetch Maester Orwyle once we return to your chambers, Princess?” Your handmaiden, Edyth, questions as the two of you make your way up one of the many winding staircases in the Red Keep – each step making you wince.

“Yes, please,” you sigh, ever grateful that she had always seemed to have a knack for predicting your requests before you had the chance to voice them, “Perhaps tell him to prepare some of the same soothing balm he gave to Helaena?”

“Of course, Princess,” Edyth nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, ever the optimist, “I believe it should help with your aches, I remember it seemed to help the Queen after…” She trails off, breath hitching in her throat.

A heavy silence seems to fall over the two of you, the same that had been blanketing the entirety of the palace for the past few days. You swallow thickly, battling against the lump suddenly growing at the back of your throat and merely nod your head in simple understanding, offering her a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sure it will be of great help, Edyth, thank you.”

Ever since… it had happened, the Red Keep feels as if it’s made of eggshells, like one small gust of wind could knock it right over. Everyone’s so on edge, terrified of saying too much or too little, the wrong thing at the wrong time. The stress of it all seems nearly suffocating, though you still have a feeling the worst was yet to come.

Suddenly, someone calls your name from behind you and you turn, smiling once you see your grandsire striding toward you.

“A raven arrived earlier from Gwayne,” Otto explains, deep voice carrying down the empty hallway, “He’s reached Oldtown safely, everything seems to be well there.”

“Oh, wonderful,” you nod, grateful for news of your husband.

“Indeed,” he continues, “Daeron seems to be in good spirits, happy to come home; they’re to depart tomorrow, as scheduled… forgive me, I meant to tell you before supper but it seems to have slipped my mind.”

“Everything has been so hectic of late, please don’t trouble yourself. He arrived safely and will be back all the sooner for it, that is what matters.”

“Of course,” Otto nods, glancing out a nearby window, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been ordered to attend to His Grace,” he says gruffly, a wry smile on his lips, nodding in the direction of Aegon’s chambers.

You nod at the mention of your twin, brows pinching together with worry. “Be… patient with him, grandsire, please,” you beseech, chest heaving with a soft sigh, “I spoke with him earlier this morning, he’s… well, he’s not himself.”

“Are any of us anymore, I wonder,” Otto mutters, fixing you with a tight smile before taking his leave, striding quickly down the hallway. Your brows furrow at that, you can’t help but throw Edyth a questioning look before the two of you continue toward your chambers.

“Seven Hells,” you grumble, quickly bringing a hand to your breast as you climb another, blessedly shorter, set of stairs, “Perhaps check the nursery first, yes? Daena may be stirring still…” You know better, even as the words leave your lips.

Your daughter has finally begun sleeping soundly through the night recently and while that is cause for celebration, you certainly won’t miss the past eight moons of late night feedings, your poor breasts are paying the price – your body not yet caught up with the lessened need for milk.

“Yes, Princess,” Edyth replies with a little nod, walking alongside you.

The two of you are almost at your chambers, finally turning onto the hallway where the family apartments are housed, when you hear it – a muffled, barely there cry. The sound makes you pause in your tracks, head swiveling, unsure of exactly where it came from and it’s then you notice that the door to Aemond’s chambers is ajar.

That in and of itself is strange indeed, your little brother valued privacy above all else, so you stride over only to pause at the entrance, hand poised midair as you reach for the door handle. Your heart clenches when another soft sob pierces the quiet of the hallway – a mournful little noise, one you’d expect more from Aegon.

Turning back to Edyth, you lead her a few feet from the door, knowing Aemond would hate it if he knew someone, anyone aside from you, had overheard him. “Go to the nursery,” you instruct, making sure to keep your voice low, “Make sure Daena is well, then you’re free for the evening.”

“But, princess, what about –”

“Nevermind it,” you murmur with a shake of your head, “I’ll send for the maester later myself.”

With a nod, she scampers off further down the hallway, leaving you alone by your brother’s door. Stepping back over toward the threshold, you bite at your bottom lip, wondering if you should go in at all – if it would be more merciful to simply pretend you hadn’t heard anything at all.

But then it happens again, another pitiful sob sounds from beyond the cracked door and you’re unable to help yourself – Aemond had always come to you with his troubles when he was younger, surely now would be no different. With a little breath, you push the door open just enough to slip through it and thank whichever Gods may be listening when you’re able to press it closed with hardly a sound.

Peeking around the screen your brother has beside the door, it feels as if your heart shatters in your chest. He looks so… small, so fragile, the complete opposite of the towering, formidable man he’d become in recent years. It’s clear he didn’t hear you come in as he stays seated in a chair near the door, his back to you; his shoulders shake with gentle cries while he hunches over, head cradled in his hands.

The disarray of his normally spotless chambers startles you once you let your eyes flit over the space – papers are strewn about all across the low table he keeps in the little sitting area, some scattered across the floor, crumpled up, or ripped to pieces. His bedsheets are halfway ripped from the bed and lie in a pool at its foot, along with the remnants of a candle, now merely a translucent puddle on the dark stone floor.

Taking a step forward, you softly call his name, trying your hardest to keep your voice as low and soft as possible, though you’re hardly able to get the first syllable out before he bolts up from the chair with a strangled gasp and spins toward you.

“Oh, Aem,” the words fall past your lips in a soft sigh, pulled from you by the startled expression on his face – eyes wide with the fear of being caught so vulnerable. His sapphire eye seems to sparkle with just as much emotion as his pale purple one.

“Sister, I –” He starts, hastily wiping his hands over his cheeks, chest heaving while he tries to calm his harsh breaths, but you’ll have none of that.

“Shh, whatever excuses you have, I’ll not hear them,” you murmur, quickly walking the few feet over to him and enveloping him in a tight embrace, just as you used to do when he would come crying to you about the tortures Aegon or your nephews put him through in their youth.

Your brother stays stiff in your arms for a moment, tense and wary, though he slowly relaxes as you rub a hand over his back, smoothing out his long hair. You yourself relax once he finally winds his long arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder with a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing.

“Tell me what distresses you so?”

“I… Jae– the boy,” he stammers, stumbling over his name. You understand, just saying your little nephew’s name seems to somehow make the pain of the loss even worse. Yet, something in your gut tells you there’s something else going on, that Jaehaerys’s death is not the only thing causing your brother such anguish.

“Aemond…” you gently press, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, “I cannot help if you won’t tell me–”

“Tell you what?” He counters, tone growing too defensive too quickly, “My nephew’s death brings me sorrow, sister. The loss of a young child is a… distressing thing.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!” You counter, trying desperately to keep your voice calm, even when Aemond backs away from you with an exasperated sigh. You’re no stranger to this game – ever since he lost his eye, your brother has guarded his emotions carefully. Getting him to speak honestly about them was about as hard as keeping a bottle of Dornish wine from Aegon’s grasp.

He gives you a sidelong glance as he paces about the room, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. Worry only blooms brighter in your chest the longer you watch him; so agitated and so guarded, closed off like an abused animal.

“It… it’s nothing,” he mumbles finally, voice short and clipped, “Nothing important, sister, I assure you.”

Unconsciously, you wring your hands worriedly, heart clenching; you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, yet you know from experience that it was better to let Aemond come to you.

“Well, surely it cannot be nothing if it has upset you so, sweetling.”

His nervous pacing comes to a screeching halt at that and he squeezes his eye shut, fists clenched at his side – his whole body tense like he’s trying desperately to keep some invisible dam within himself closed.

You reach a hand up instinctively when he bites at his bottom lip and turns his head away from you, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “I–,” he croaks, the tightness in his voice makes your breath hitch in your throat; every maternal cell in your body is screaming at you, pleading with you to hold him, “I don’t w-wish to burden you.”

“Baby brother,” you sigh, finally going to him, practically running the few feet over to where he stands. Your arms encircle him instantly, pulling him into a tight embrace – one hand rubs over his back while the other cups the back of his head, holding his face against the crook of your neck, “You could never be a burden to me, never.”

That seems to break him and he gasps, breathing warm against your neck, before he finally lets go and his shoulders heave with sobs while his hands cling to you desperately, fisting into the fabric of your gown like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. A tightness grows at the back of your own throat, not used to seeing him be this raw, this open, in what feels like lifetimes. It breaks your heart to think he’d been holding all of this in, determined to be the strong, silent soldier like everyone expected, while he dealt with such sadness all alone.

“Shh, shh, Aemond, you’re okay,” you murmur gently, eyes widening when he sags against you, his knees giving way only for a second. “Here, come,” you instruct, taking one of his hands in yours and leading him to the small seating area in his chambers. You urge him to sit on the sofa he has there before joining him yourself, a bit surprised when he all but throws himself against you again – practically laying his head in your lap as he sobs, cheek pressed against your chest in a way that makes you wince from the tenderness still there, not that you’d ever scold him for it.

“There, that’s much better, hm? Comfortable?” You ask, simply trying to draw him back to the surface.

He doesn’t reply, something that doesn’t really come as a shock to you given how harsh his cries are, leaving him breathless against you. Deciding to let him get it out, you stay quiet, merely shushing him every so often as you run your fingers through his pearlescent hair.

After a long while, he seems to settle some and tears begin running down his cheeks silently rather than racking his body with savage cries; he lifts his head from your lap and rests it instead against your shoulder, gazing up at you as if you’re an angel sent from the heavens themselves. The intense tenderness with which he looks at you makes you blush, yet your brows furrow slightly at the darkness still there – lingering in the lilac of his eye.

“I have… I have done something terrible.”

Your brother's murmured confession only serves to confuse you further and you shake your head slightly, heart clenching in your chest as you silently wonder what in all the Seven Kingdoms he could possibly mean by that.

“Aemond,” you start, knowing not to pry – to let him tell you, “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me think any less of you.”

He stares up at you for a long moment, eye flicking across your face like he’s checking for even the barest hint of deception, yet he finds none – your words are true.

“You… promise me you will not hate me.”

“I promise, sweet brother,” your brows pinch together at his words, wondering what could possibly be bad enough for all this, yet you can’t stop the corners of your lips from quirking into a sad smile at his request; that uncertain lilt in his voice reminds you so much of when he was younger, “There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Nothing.”

“I…” He starts, pulling away from you as he sits up, sparing you one last glance before staring off into the fireplace, “I am the… the reason Jaehaerys is dead.”

“What?” The word is pressed from you, leaving your lips as little more than a breath. You stare at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, utterly perplexed. How in the Seven Hells could he have ever arrived at that conclusion? Taking one of his hands in yours, you lean a little closer, “Sweetling, what in the world do you mean?”

“They were here for me,” Aemond rasps, wincing as if the words themselves are painful, clawing at his throat on their way out, “They were… Gods, they were sent for me and – and when they couldn’t find me, they… H-He died because I was not here, because they could not f-find me…”

“Oh, my love,” you sigh, the backs of your eyes stinging as he presses himself against you again, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, “Aemond, you couldn’t have known, none of us did. You couldn’t have known…” You repeat, like saying the words again and again will make him believe them.

“I s-should have,” he whimpers, voice breaking over a sob, “I should’ve k-known, I sh–should’ve been here…”

You hold him tightly, practically hauling him onto your lap as his tears leak over your skin, running into the valley of your cleavage like a river, though you pay it no mind. “Shh, sweetling, shh,” you murmur and press a soft kiss to his forehead, “It’s not your fault, dear one, it’s no one’s fault but the vile men who took him and our… our coward of a sister who ordered it done.”

He stays silent for a moment and you can feel the gears in his brain turning, working furiously as he tries to internalize your words, wanting desperately to believe them but unable to let himself. You sigh softly when you feel him shake his head against you, so determined to cling to guilt.

“If… if I had n-not been at the…”

“At the where, brother?” You press, clinging to anything you may be able to use to shift the conversation.

“...The brothel…” he mumbles after a long pause, the words so muffled against the column of your neck that you have to strain to hear them. His words shock you, the complete opposite of anything you’d been expecting. You try your hardest not to let that show, even as a strange sense of jealousy wells up within you – a sense of possessiveness you’ve always felt for your little brother.

“Well, you… you are a man grown, my love,” you heart hammers in your chest, loud enough that you wonder if he can hear it, “If you wish to lay with–”

“I didn’t… I–” He stammers, clinging to you tightly as he shakes his head, an urgency in his voice you can’t quite place, “That’s not what, I… I mean, I–”

“No matter,” you cut him off, aching to see him so distressed, “Whatever you do there, sweet brother, it’s your… right to do it.” You struggle to get the words out, the sense of protectiveness rising viciously in your chest makes your throat feel tight.

He lifts his head from your shoulder again and eyes you for a long moment – for what, you aren’t sure. It’s almost like he’s surprised not to be meant with disgust or contempt; you wish you knew why.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally mumbles, glancing away from you, ashamed, “I should’ve been home… I should’ve been here to protect my family.”

“Aemond, please,” you sigh and sit up slightly, moving to cup his cheeks in your hands, wiping at his tears with your thumb, “It is not your job to protect us, we have guards for a reason… if anything, this atrocity is their fault but it is not yours, do you understand?” Your eyes bore into his as you speak, desperate to make him understand, to rid him of this misplaced guilt.

“Do… do you still love me?” He asks after a long moment, voice so timid, so meek like he’s already preparing himself for your rejection, that it makes your heart twist horribly in your chest.

Still, you cannot help but huff out a little laugh, lips lifting into a sad smile at the utter ridiculousness of the question. “You are my dearest brother,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead, letting your lips linger on his skin for a second, “Of course, I still love you, Aemond. I have loved you from the moment you came into this world and I shall never, never stop – the Gods themselves could not make me.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, save for a small hum from your brother as he nods. His arms encircle you again and selfishly, you enjoy it – being this close to him again, like he was a little boy once more. He’d been all but attached to you at the hip before that dreadful night, following you about the Keep and telling you all sorts of tales about various histories of the Realm in that sweet voice of his.

All of that had stopped that night and, at first, you had assumed that he merely thought himself a man grown afterwards – a man who had finally claimed a dragon, a man who no longer needed comfort from an older sibling. The sadness in his voice when he speaks again, muffled against your shoulder, tells you otherwise.

“Mother doesn’t love me anymore,” his voice is flat and detached as he breathes out the words, like he’s informing you of some tragic, unavoidable accident.

“Aem, of course she does. She loves you very–”

“No,” he cuts you off, sitting up once more and shaking his head, “Ever since that business with Luke, I… she can hardly bring herself to look at me. She won’t speak to me outside of Small Council meetings and even then she tries not to, ‘tis plain to see.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes, leaving you to swallow around the lump that grows at the back of your throat once again. What are you to say? He’s… Gods, bless him, he’s right, you’ve seen as much to know.

“You are the only one who has never abandoned me,” he starts, eye sparkling in the candlelight as tears begin welling up within it once more, “Everyone else has left.”

“That’s not…” Your voice fades as you sigh, knowing that arguing with him now will do no good. Instead, you simply hold him tighter and brush a few stray locks of hair from his face. “I can promise that I shall never leave you, sweet brother.”

He grows quiet for a moment, slumping down against you until his head rests in your lap and his body curls up onto the sofa. Silently, you resist the urge to cradle him, to hold him against you as you do Daena when she wakes from a nap with a start, crying out from her cradle.

He is a grown man, you remind yourself, yet it does nothing to stop the strange ache in your heart.

“They all used to taunt me, surely you remember, when we were younger,” he mumbles, eye fixated on the fire crackling in the hearth, even as he clings to you, “First for not having a dragon, then for not having an eye.”

You hum in affirmation – you do remember it, sadly. You remember it all very well; he had slept in your chambers for a week after the incident with the pig, not wanting to be left alone at night with the memories of it. You remember having to hold him back at the table when Aegon had poked fun at his eyepatch during supper, about a month after his eye had been gouged out.

You remember that night too, when he’d come to you with tearful apologies, murmuring sorries again and again for accidentally nicking your hand while trying to brandish a knife against his brother.

“I have always been an outcast.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the circumstances and you sigh softly, brushing your fingers through his long strands of hair, “I quite like you being different… perhaps if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be as close, hm?”

Aemond goes quiet at that, stills in your lap with a little sigh before simply burrowing against you even more, curling in on himself tighter.

A soft coo leaves your lips, strands of his long hair passing between your fingers like silk. “What say you stay with me tonight, yes?” You offer, the thought of him in the dark carrying all this alone grief makes you feel ill, “We could even cuddle, if you like? Just as we did when you were younger.”

A short beat of silence later, all you get is a little, “Yes, please,” mumbled against your abdomen.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs later, the two of you finally lying together atop your bed, cuddled closely against one another just as you’d promised. You’d each taken time to get ready for bed and Aemond seems a little better for it, no longer as distressed and teary now that he’s had the time to collect himself.

Your hand carefully cups the side of his face that isn’t pressed against your pillow, that isn’t buried in the crook of your neck, as an astonished huff of laughter escapes your lips as they curve into a sad smile, your brows furrowed. “Why in the world would you think such things?” Even as the question is whispered into the quiet of your chambers, you know the answer – Aemond has always been this way, always one to reject comfort, even when it is so freely given, even when he himself seeks it out.

If only he could see himself as you do.

“I… I have done so many shameful things, sister, I…” His voice breaks when he cuts himself off and you can feel him tense in your hold, “‘Tis the simple truth, I don’t deserve you.”

You hum softly, combing your fingers through his hair while you mull over his words, silently wondering why he has always been like this – why you have always felt so unworthy of softness and kindness and love.

“Well, it is not my truth,” you murmur after a moment, eyes flicking over the long line of his body, hidden by your silken bedsheets. In the time each of you had taken to ready yourselves for bed, you had changed into a nightgown and he into a simple nightshirt, leaving your bare legs to tangle together, “Would you like to know what I think, my love?”

You feel him inhale against the crook of your neck, sucking in air like he’s steeling himself for disappointment, yet he still lifts his head and peers up at you. His lilac eye searches your face for a long moment, looking for even the smallest indication of displeasure in your features, only to find none.

Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, assured that surely whatever you were to say would not hurt him too badly, he nods.

Sitting up just enough to better see his face, you look at him with nothing but adoration as the two of you rest shoulder to shoulder, backs against the headboard. “I believe you deserve every kindness in the world, Aemond. And I believe even that would be too little,” your voice is hardly a whisper when you speak, like this is the deepest of secrets meant only for his ears, “You deserve nothing but happiness, sweet baby brother.”

He stares at you for a long moment, eye wide and glassy while his chest aches as your words seep into him like a soothing balm. You can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows, eye squeezing shut for a moment while he processes your words – so sweet they nearly stung.

A soft coo bubbles from your lips when you see his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath the linen of his nightshirt, and you lean into him all the more when one of his hands reaches out and grabs one of your own, squeezing it like it’s a lifeline.

“Shh,” you soothe, giving him a sad smile when his eye finally opens again, gaze immediately finding yours, “Sweet boy.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before looking away from you once again, mind reeling. Not knowing what to do, overcome with so much emotion his heart feels as if it’s adrift at sea, he brings your hand up and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles before holding it to his cheek and sucking in another little breath as his bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t ever leave me,” he whispers finally, voice tight and hoarse.

Cupping his face, you caress your thumb over the scar beneath his eye softly and lean over just enough to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “I will never leave you, Aemond, I swear it.”

He shudders once more before letting out a shaky breath, eye filled with a wild desperation. Before you can register the movement, his hands are suddenly gripping at your waist and hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his, as he buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, apologies already muffled against your skin. “I-I’m sorry, I – Gwayne will… will hate me but –”

“Shh, sh, sh, sweetling,” you murmur, despite the small, barely audible gasp that leaves you at the sudden movement, so wholly unused to this as half of you tries desperately to comfort you while the other half wonders if you should put a stop to this, “Gwayne knows, my love, he… it’s okay, he knows.”

A sob is wrenched from Aemond’s lips, warm against your neck, but he nods nonetheless, sighing when you begin carding your fingers through his hair once more, smoothing out the long, pale strands. Slowly, he relaxes again, arms wound securely around your waist while his breath evens out.

You’re about to say something else, though your breath hitches in your throat when he begins peppering your neck with soft, chaste little kisses – feather-light down the column of your neck. He stops after a second, noticing you tense up on his lap, eyes wide as a million thoughts swirl in your mind: Is this okay? Should you stop this? This is your precious baby brother, the one who used to cling to your skirts when he was sad, who used to come to you in the night when he woke from a nightmare…

He leans forward once more and nips at your earlobe, making your heart stutter in your chest, “Can… can I try something?”

Your head reels at the sudden change in his touches, needier now, though for an entirely different reason, yet still your mind reels – piqued with curiosity. “What is it you wish to try?” You question after a moment, voice scratchy from the sudden dryness at the back of your throat.

Silently, Aemond relishes this; something about you, you his normally strong and carefree older sister, being this flustered because of him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Dipping his head, he resumes pressing soft kisses against your skin, though they linger now – teeth nipping before he soothes the small bites with a swipe of his tongue, drawing ever closer to the pulse point in your neck that beats so wildly he can feel it beneath your skin.

“Aemond!” You all but wheeze when he suddenly grabs at your hips, his own firmly bucking up against you. A shock goes down your spine at the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, two thin layers of fabric doing precious little to mask the feel of it. Again, you tense up, practically jumping out of your skin as you pull back just enough to gaze down at him, your eyes wide, blinking rapidly, as they search his.

This was the last thing you expected tonight, the last thing you’d expect from him at all. “Wha – I…” You stammer, dumbstruck while worry and uncertainty cloud your mind.

Aemond shushes you now, long fingers squeezing at your bare thighs now that your nightgown has ridden up enough to reveal them. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against your skin, “Do you trust me…?”

Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, heart hammering in your chest. You should be the one comforting him… what in the Seven Hells has happened? Is… is this the comfort he needs now?

Even still, you nod your head at his question; of course you trust him, you’d trust him with anything… even this.

A smile grows on his lips when you acquiesce, a pleased glimmer in his eye when he lifts his hands to your hips again, his grip firmer this time. “Good… good, sweet sister,” he hums lowly, rutting his hips up against you once more, lilac eye watching you with keen interest.

“A-Aem…” You gasp once more, the feel of him against you so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, even when your brows furrow as your eyes flutter, threatening to slip shut. His movements press a small whimper from your lips and you can feel the sting in your cheeks as they flush, chest heaving while your hands grab tightly at his shoulders.

The smug look on his face slowly morphs into one of wonder and his eye flits over your face greedily, like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you like this – already so strung out over him.

He moves again, the feeling of your soft core pressing against his growing length through the thin linen only serving to drive his urges further. “Gods, you look so beautiful like this…” He murmurs, in awe at having you like this, and all to himself. Unable to help himself, he leans forward yet again and pulls you closer as his lips settle once more against your neck.

Instinctually, your head tilts to the side, giving him room to kiss over your skin. His movements against you cause you to shiver in his grasp, even if a small part of you was still uncertain, hoping this wouldn’t change your relationship with him for the worse.

The slow grind of his hips causes his nightshirt to eventually ride up his legs as well, and you gasp anew, jumping once more when his length suddenly presses against your center, unhindered by fabric.

“Feel what you do to me?” He purrs, letting out a low groan of his own.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted ever so slightly while your chest heaves, silently wondering if this is truly happening. Almost imperceptibly, you nod your head, shuddering at the feeling of his cock pressed against you, already twitching.

“L-Little brother,” you gasp, breathless already.

Aemond smirks at your response, your whimpers and soft gasps going right to his head. He grabs at your waist still, bucking against you in slow, almost teasing movements. A low, pleased hum vibrates him in his chest when he feels how wet you are against him – the heat radiating from your center nearly stifling.

The longer this goes on, the more you can feel your resolve crumbling, any small bits left of you that wanted to put a stop to this slowly fading away. Distantly, you can’t help wondering if this is how it’s always been meant to be, if this was the only logical conclusion your paths could reach, the outcome of such a close bond. Perhaps, you have always been made for this.

“Aemond,” his name falls from your lips in a soft sigh and you finally lean against him heavily, pressing your chest against his unthinkingly. “Shit!” You gasp only a second later, jolting as if stung by a bee, brought back to reality by the ache in your breasts.

“Sister?” Aemond questions, freezing beneath you while he looks over your face, his hands rising to cup your cheeks protectively.

You start to answer, to explain, when you feel a sudden tingling sensation at your chest and, judging from the look on your brother’s face, an explanation would be a moot point by now anyway.

“Gods grant me mercy,” he sighs, eye wider than you’ve ever seen it as he stares, near open-mouthed, at your chest. Glancing down, your cheeks flush at the sight of milk dampening the linen at your breasts, leaving it all but translucent.

Again, you go to explain, only to stop yourself in your tracks when his tongue darts out, licking over his bottom lip. Your head spins when you notice his chest heaving as he stares at you with a nearly savage hunger, eyes fixed on your breasts like his universe has been narrowed down to a pinpoint.

“Aemond?”

“Please,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking over his lips once more, practically salivating. His eye flicks up to yours for only the briefest of seconds before zeroing in on your chest once more, “Sweet… sweet sister, please.”

Again, the energy in the room seems to shift, Aemond once again begging you for comfort, bowing to your whims. Quickly, you shush him while one hand threads into his hair once more as you bring his head back against the crook of your neck, settling him there while he groans against your skin, rough hands slowly trailing up your waist before halting at your ribs.

Your other hand busies itself with snaking between the two of you and impatiently batting your clothes away before your fingers finally curl around his length, causing the both of you to let out soft cries.

“Shh, sweetling,” you coo, chest heaving while you position him at your entrance, sighing as he desperately mouths at your neck, “I know what you need, I’ve got you.”

Again, twin moans fill your dimly lit chambers when you slowly sink down on him. Whimpers are punched from your lungs at the feel of him steadily filling you, his chest rumbling against yours as he groans deeply, hips jolting beneath you.

“Gods,” you sigh when your hips are finally pressed tightly against his once more, panting and letting your eyes fall shut while you give yourself a moment to adjust.

The feel of him borders on overwhelming – pressed so tightly inside of you, around you, the very air in your room filled with the heady, herbaceous scent of the bath oils you know he favors. You imagine he must feel the same as he trembles beneath you, fingers and hips twitching with barely contained desire.

Finally, your need to comfort him, to protect him even from himself, rears its head again and you relish the breathy sigh that leaves him as you begin to move your hips. It’s a grinding motion, soft and gentle – what he needs now, to be treated with care. Still, the movements send shockwaves up your spine as the pale hairs at the base of his cock rub perfectly against your pearl, creating a delicious friction to spur you on.

“So good,” he breathes, warm against your shoulder as he leans forward, kissing at your neck, “You feel so good, sister, you… you are s-so good to me…”

“Just as you deserve,” you murmur, combing your fingers through his long hair once more before your hands travel down to the hem of his nightshirt and you begin impatiently tugging at it, pulling it over his head and grinning at the soft, nearly petulant, whine he gives at having to separate from you even for a second.

Still, some instinctual force seems to drive you, a need to feel his skin against your own, and you waste no time before pulling your own nightgown up and over your head as well, leaving nothing to separate the two of you.

The groan that leaves him when your chest presses back against his own once more is like nothing you’ve heard before – a sound of the purest relief, like he’s found some oasis in the desert. His eye opens again and the rhythm of your hips stutters only for a second once it finds yours. The lilac is almost completely overtaken by black and yet, he still regards you as if you are an angel sent from the heavens themselves, stares at you with such reverence that your heart flutters in your chest.

Something clicks for you then as he whimpers beneath you, his own hips beginning to buck up against your own as the lazy tempo you’ve settled into slowly starts to pick up. You understand, now, that this is merely another step, an added turn, in the so carefully balanced dance the two of you have constructed.

And if this is what he needs to be comforted, then you’re more than happy to give it.

“My good boy,” sigh, moving against him with renewed vigor, grinning when he lets out a hitched moan, “Is this what you needed?”

“Yes, y-yes,” he nods, his eye never leaving your own as he ruts beneath you, the choppy movements only adding to the fire slowly building within your veins, “Please, sweet sister, please…”

You don’t need to ask to know what it is he means, nodding before he has time to stutter out another word, “Take what you need, my love.”

Another breathy groan sounds from him as he quickly descends onto your chest, tilting his head down and immediately capturing your sensitive nipple between his lips, one hand coming up to gently cup your breast, holding it steady. The feeling of relief that flows through you when he starts suckling is nearly disorienting, the dull ache in your breast slowly fading away with each mouthful of milk he pulls from you, greedily taking a few mouthfuls from one breast before switching to the other.

Your fingers stay anchored in his hair while your hips work against him, your high building more steadily within you now that your breasts no longer feel ready to burst. You pant as you gaze down at him, eyes half-lidded while you watch his lips move against you, lilac eye still fixated on you.

Below you, Aemond is halfway convinced he’s died and somehow the Gods have seen fit to spare him the Seven Hells. His head spins as he drinks from you, the taste of you by far the sweetest, most decadent thing he could fathom. As the knot in his belly grows ever-tighter, his suckles become more greedy, frantic, not knowing whether you’ll allow him this pleasure ever again.

“Please, f-fuck,” he sighs, the words punched from his lips as he pulls away from you just enough to speak, uncaring as dribbles of milk leak from the corners of his lips, staining your skin. His hips practically move on their own accord as he mindlessly grinds up into you, seeking out the warmth and safety he knows he shall only ever feel within you.

Above him, you nod, swallowing thickly against the dryness at the back of your throat, cheeks flushed while you watch him unravel. Snaking a hand between your bodies once more, your fingers quickly find your sensitive, aching bud and rubbing at it with a practiced precision.

“Gods, sweet little brother,” you breathe out, pleasure zapping down your spine. You frantically nod again, frantic this time, just as your high washes over you, “Come, Aemond… Gods, let go, little one.”

His suckles turn more into little biting nips while he gasps against you, trembling beneath you when he finally lets pleasure overtake him – eye squeezing shut at the feel of your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

The warmth of him filling you only spurs you on more, your breaths ragged against his forehead while you feel yourself tense and relax again and again, grabbing at whatever parts of him you can reach.

You each go still after a few moments, panting against each other. Aemond is practically limp beneath you, lazily nuzzling his face against your chest, satiated smile just barely tugging at the corners of his lips. Chuckling softly, you pepper his forehead in sweet kisses, relishing the contented hum he gives in return.

When you go to get up however, intent on fetching a cloth to clean you both up with, he reaches for you with a small whine as he grabs at your thighs.

“Don’t, please,” he murmurs, brows furrowed when your eyes meet, “Stay…”

“You… you want to stay like this?” You question, your heartbeat quickening as he quickly nods, “You wish to stay –”

“Inside,” he finishes quickly, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows bashfully, cheeks flushed, “I… I feel safe like… like this.”

“Then you can stay, silly boy,” you answer with a grin, kissing at his forehead once more, “Here, let’s just…” You murmur, tilting your hips to the side ever so slightly, attempting to pull him with you.

Blessedly, he seems to understand and follows you willingly, allowing you to maneuver the two of you onto your sides. After a moment, you’re comfortable once more, each of you lying on your side and facing the other, one of your legs slung over his narrow hips to keep him pressed tightly within you.

“Good boy,” you sigh softly, smiling when he shivers against you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, your hands gently caressing his soft skin or running through his hair while you hold him against you. After a while, his lilac eye finally flutters closed and you can’t help but marvel at how much younger he looks like this – relaxed and spent while he lies against you, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

After a while, he seems to grow restless again, nosing at your chest until he finds what he desires. You sigh softly as he pulls a nipple into his mouth once more, suckling at it contentedly while he peers up at you sleepily.

“There you go,” you murmur soothingly, coaxing him to lift his head just enough for you to lay an arm beneath it, allowing you to caress his shoulders while your other hand cups gently at the side of his face, thumb sweeping over his soft skin. “Take what you need, sweet one,” you coo, smiling as he quickly returns his lips to your breast, “You’re safe, I’ve got you…”

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

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seumyo · 5 months ago

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KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you.

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze.

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies.

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.”

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink.

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously.

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this.

Definitely missed you.

#kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #kenji x reader #kenji sato #ken sato #ultraman #ultraman rising #sato kenji #‹𝟹 𓏲🗒️ꜝֶָ֢ ʾʾ

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obsesssedblerd · 3 months ago

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i live for your girl dad! sukuna may we please have a little more? 😭💕

oh, you're in luck anon. just finished typing this one <3

Sukuna’s daughter had been wailing for the last half hour. Maybe even longer.

He tells Uraume to finish preparations, then walks back in the direction of your shared bedroom. He finds you there, pacing back and forth while trying to soothe your baby with light shushes and comforting humming. You look tired. Lately, you haven’t been getting much sleep.

“She’s still crying, even after all this time,” he says from the doorway. “Is she sick?”

“Oh, no,” you reply with a small, exhausted smile. “It’s just that… She knows you’re leaving.”

That makes him pause and raise an eyebrow in question. “What?”

You elaborate. “She cries when you leave for business, and she doesn’t sleep as easily until you return.” You look down at your daughter, who had begun reaching her little arms towards Sukuna the moment she felt his presence in the room. “Proof that she’s my daughter. It doesn’t help that she can feel that I am also sad.”

Though his expression remains as stoic as ever, Sukuna’s heart pings at your soft confession. Before he knows it, he’s walking towards you. “Here.” He gently takes the small, wailing girl and holds her against his chest, her cries immediately softening. Her tiny hands grip his kimono, as if she were begging him to stay for a little while longer. You sit down on the bed, and when you yawn, Sukuna tells you that he’ll put the baby to sleep, then exits the room, taking the hallway that leads to the garden of his large estate.

By the time he’s outside, his daughter’s no longer crying. She stares up at him, her big crimson eyes still pleading to him. Sukuna sighs, slowing his steps when he reaches the garden’s trail. “You surprise me, brat,” he tells her. “Before you were born, I was convinced that you, like most babies, would be frightened in my presence.”

His daughter tilts her head in what he thinks is confusion, as if saying, ‘But you’re my father. Why would I be afraid of you?’ He scoffs, then wraps her in the baby blanket he brought with him. “You need to sleep, little one. It’s late. I am certain that you are tired.”

Sukuna remains quiet as he continues walking through the moonlit garden, and it doesn’t take long for the baby’s eyes to shut. Once her breathing steadies and he knows that she’s asleep, he exhales once, thinking of your words earlier. “Proof that she’s my daughter. It doesn’t help that she can feel that I am also sad.”

He didn’t know that you missed him that much whenever he was away on business.

When Sukuna returns to the room, he carefully places his daughter in the bassinet next to your bed. Since the baby blanket still has his cursed energy on it, she’ll find comfort in it until he returns. Then he sees you, fast asleep in the bed. He covers you with the blanket, then gently strokes your cheek. I’ll be back soon, he thinks to you. Finally, he quietly closes the door, then makes his way back to Uraume.

“Lord Sukuna,” Uraume greets him with a dip of their head. “Is the little princess alright? Does she need anything?”

“She is fine, but we shall make this quick,” he says. “My wife and my brat prefer when I am home, so the faster I can return to them, the better.”

#sukuna fluff #sukuna imagine #girl dad sukuna #girl dad kuna ily #jujutsu kaisen #written by rey <3 #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk fluff #parent au #sukuna au

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nebulaafterdark · 4 months ago

Text

The Succession (Part 3)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Alicent’s idea of a procession to gain support for their wounded King, has quite the opposite effect. The smallfolk swam them, knocking the attending members of the royal family from their carriage and down onto the streets with them.

The Dowager Queen clings to Helaena and her daughter by law. With gold cloaks of the city watch forcing the crowd away from them. Making a path back toward the Keep.

Chérie watches in horror as it unfolds, amongst the sea of people, she spots a familiar face. One of Rhaenyra’s ladies-in-waiting. “Elinda?”

“Chérie?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to deliver a message to Princess Y/N, from Queen Rhaenyra.”

“May the gods be with you,” Chérie remarks.

“Where is she?” Elinda asks.

Chérie points toward the center of the mob. Alicent, Helaena and Y/N covered by guards attempting to protect them. “There.”

“Give us the Queen!”

“We want the Queen.”

“Back, all of you!” The guards demand, preparing to draw their swords.

Y/N tries to step forward, give the people what they want.

“Y/N,” Alicent keeps a firm hold on her, shaking her head. “It is not worth the risk.”

“You drug me away from my husband’s sick bed for our people to see me.” Y/N reminds her. “Let them see me.”

Alicent releases her, against her better judgment.

The mass of commoners threaten to engulf the Queen, with the banner of house Targaryen held proudly in their midst. “We want meat.”

“The King makes false promises!”

“You feast in your castle as we starve!”

The shouting builds to a crescendo.

“Do you want my help, or simply to hurl insults at the crown?” Y/N waits until they fall silent before she continues. “Before the King’s coronation, I was told the realm would never accept a ruling Queen. I heard this same sentiment recently, as my lord husband returned from battle, grievously injured. Yet you raise my mother’s banner in my husband’s streets.” Y/N says, loud enough for all to hear. “War is a terrible thing, that costs us all that which we love. It drives a wedge between our houses, makes fools of us all.”

“Stop the war!”

“End the blockade!”

Y/N hesitates, “I have no more agency over that than any of you, I fear. But I believe, as I know my husband does, that our victory relies on the smallfolk. We take to the woods, this day. We will hunt for our meat and we shall feast upon it together.”

The smallfolk murmur to each other.

“Most of you are not trained for the hunt, to which I say, neither am I. But we must stand together, not tear ourselves apart. We are one people, we are one heart.”

Slowly, the townsfolk begin voicing their approval.

“Take to your houses,” Y/N instructs, “gather your weapons and join me at the gates. They will open for us or we will break them down!”

“If you want a word with the Queen, now is your chance.” Chérie whispers.

“And you?”

“I must stand watch over his grace, until her return. After what I have learned this day…he mustn’t be alone.”

The mob cheers as they disband, knocking Chérie and Elinda apart.

Alicent rushes Helaena inside as Y/N heads for the gates.

“She should not be alone.” Helaena says.

“No, she shouldn’t.” Alicent presses cups her daughter’s face in her hands. “Ser Criston.” She calls.

“Your grace,” he stands at the ready.

“You are to accompany the Queen on this venture.” She tells him. “Y/N is not to be out of your sight, no harm must come to her.”

“Of course, your grace.” Cole nods, excusing himself to meet the Queen at the gates. They remain closed as commoners fall in line behind her, pushing at one another as she fights her way to the forefront.

“Where is it you think you’re going?” Aemond asks his niece.

“To give our people meat.” Y/N sneers, spotting her husband’s dagger on his hip. Without hesitation she reaches across, staring him dead in the eye as she yanks the blade free of its sheath. “You are welcome to join us.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, knowing he has the final say in directing the King’s guard, “open the gates.”

————————————————————————

When Daemon receives Rhaenyra’s letter, detailing her plan to secure Y/N’s safe passage from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, he believes it is a terrible idea.

What they need is for her to hold the throne, the moment she abandons it, any claim Rhaenyra or Aegon holds over it will be lost to the Prince Regent. He knows better than anyone that the realm will suffer if Aemond, one eye, rules.

Instead he plans to enlist help of his own to secure his grandchildren’s safety. With Y/N and Aemond out roaming the woods, taking over half the King’s guard with them, he finds his opportunity.

Whistling through the gates to one of the white cloaks, who harbors a strong dislike of the Hightowers. The man abandons his post, meeting Daemon at the bars.

“How would you like to make a year’s worth of gold in an hour?”

Blood swallows harshly, “what would you have me do?”

“You can start by opening the fucking gate.”

The man does as he’s told.

“Follow me.” Daemon leads him down the alleyway to another man, whom he calls Cheese. “This is an old friend of mine, tonight he’s going to be your friend.” Daemon tosses them each a sack of gold.

“You said a year’s worth.”

“Half now, half when the job is done.”

Blood and Cheese count their bags of coin before nodding their agreement.

“What I need of you is simple. Enter the castle, find my grandson, Aegon.”

“The King?”

“Prince Aegon. He is a babe with dark hair.” With his father incapacitated, they have a good shot at it. “If you cannot retrieve him safely, leave.”

“Is that all?”

“Be sure to scare the seven hells out of the maids while you’re at it. But you are not to cause harm. This is a ploy to increase protection of the Queen’s heirs. Nothing more.”

“What is it they need protecting from?” Cheese wonders.

“Do you want the job or not?” Daemon snaps.

“Y-yes.”

“I will be waiting to collect him at the north gate.” The prince informs them. “You have one hour.”

————————————————————————-

“Disperse and take your share, all of you.” Aemond gives the smallfolk his blessing. They scatter in all directions, desperate and searching.

Y/N sets off with a pack of them into the east woods. Cole follows.

Aemond stays with the masses, showing his good faith. Hoping to win back their support of his claim.

Y/N is the first to spot a deer, running from them, “just there.” She sets off toward is. “Who wants it?”

“I, your grace.” A man with silver, gray hair marches toward it.

“Very well!” Y/N praises, “everyone come round, be sure it does not escape.”

“Together, now.”

They take the first, with some difficulty. Each to follow becomes easier.

Aemond makes his kills alone, happening upon the group eventually. Just in time to see the gleam of the White Hart, watching on from a safe distance. Willing him to slain it, prove himself once and for all, as Y/N toils in servitude of the smallfolk.

“Your grace!” One of the men yell, pointing to the stag. “For you.”

“For us,” Y/N pats his shoulder before hiking up her ruined skirts, “for us.”

“For us!”

Aemond draws his sword, spooking the animal into hiding.

The Queen’s eyes widen.

“May the beast be slain by the true heir, as a sign of good faith.” He says, taking off in search of it.

Y/N runs after him.

“My Queen!”

“Stay with the Queen!”

She chases Aemond deeper into the woods, but the stag cannot be found.

In an instant, Aemond turns on his heels. Leaving the end of his blade pointed at Y/N’s belly.

She flinches as his sword grazes her cheek on it’s upward swing.

Aemond smirks, watching the blood bead on her skin as her eyes well with tears. “Behind you.”

The stag bolts away.

“Aemond!” Ser Criston calls.

The Prince Regent sheathes his sword. “It got away.”

Y/N’s knees buckle, she does not fight as she falls to the ground. It was him. He who would sooner shroud his brother in dragon fire than fight at his side. He who jumped the line of succession to turn the war in his favor.

“Your grace,” Cole moves to her as Aemond retreats. “You’re injured.”

Y/N holds a hand up between them.

“Let me help you stand.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, “each time I stand I am struck down.”

“Because you keep rising.” Cole tells her. “You know, I may not have fathered them, but I raised both Aegon and Aemond as my own. He would not want to see you this way.”

“He may never see me again.”

“I do not believe that is true.” Ser Criston sighs, “so long as you live, he will find a way. My responsibility to Aegon now lies in ensuring he has something to wake up to.” He says, pointedly. “You have not made it an easy task.”

“I overheard you call my mother a spoiled cunt once.” Y/N scrubs a hand over her face, “be forewarned, I am worse.”

Despite himself, Cole smiles. Something just beyond her catching his eye. “My Queen.”

She follows the direction of his finger.

“This will be the sign we all desperately need, they would fall in line behind you. There will be no further question.”

The White Hart stares back at her, unblinking. “Have you come to die for me too?” She pushes up to her feet, flashing the blade before the animal’s eyes in warning. But the stag comes closer, she strokes its bowed head, plunging the dagger clean into its heart, allowing the stag to collapse onto her. Rocking the creature as best she can. “Thank you for all you have done for me. Your sacrifice is not in vain.”

Cole carries the slain stag behind Y/N, trudging through the forest, covered in its blood. The smallfolk know what this means. There is no need for a Prince Regent, they have a Queen.

Aemond nods. She’s won the battle, but he’ll win the war.

————————————————————————-

With the smallfolk contented, Y/N retires to her rooms, allowing the bath water to soothe her muscles and her mind. Chérie is still about, therefore the Queen allows another of her ladies to scrub the dirt and blood from her skin.

“It is done, my Queen.” Livia nods, “should you like a towel, or to soak a while longer?”

“The water is filthy,” Y/N murmurs.

“We might draw you a new bath, your grace.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “Just the towel please.”

“At once, your grace.” She reaches for the plush cream fabric, holding it open for her majesty.

Y/N wraps herself in it, as her hair is rung out over the tub.

“Are you thinking of braids, your grace?”

No. Not in the least. “You may leave it hang.”

“Are you certain?” Livia blinks at her.

“Yes, help me dress in my nightgown, please. I am quite exhausted.”

Livia nods, scurrying to the dressing area and returning with a pale purple gown. “Is this to your liking, my Queen?”

Y/N smiles, “it is lovely. Thank you.”

The woman returns the gesture.

“You needn’t always address me so formally when we are alone. I wish for us to be friends.”

“A Queen is not expected to be friends with her servants.” Livia says, “my mother has served the dowager Queen Alicent for many years.”

“My mother was always kind to her ladies.” Y/N tells her. “That is the Queen I hope to be.”

Livia nods, easing the material over the Queen’s head, followed quickly by her robe. “I should like that very much.”

“I understand how difficult it can be, taking on a new role without knowing what’s expected of you. If you’ve questions, please voice them to me, I am more than happy to answer.”

“I have heard whispers from other ladies…that Chérie joins you and the King in your bed.” Livia stammers, “you are both very lovely, your grace, but I would not know how-”

“Oh no,” Y/N huffs a laugh. “Livia, that will never be asked of you. Chérie is very dear to the King and I, but that is not a task expected of my ladies.”

“Forgive me for assuming.”

“It’s quite alright, I am glad to clear the air between us. I would hate for you to be nervous in my presence over a misunderstanding.”

Livia exhales, “thank you for being so kind.”

Y/N takes her hand, “of course.”

“Y/N,” Chérie pants, having rushed past the guards. “It’s Aegon.”

Y/N moves, as if in slow motion, taking the bloodied dagger from the floor. Down the hall, to her husband’s rooms, shoving open the door.

“You’re hurt.” He says, taking in the sight of her, freshly dressed, hair still dripping from the bath.

She gawks at him. Willing her legs to move and dropping to her knees at the side of his bed, casting the weapon aside. Y/N rests her cheek against the coverlet, not daring to touch him.

Carefully he reaches for her, feeling the charred skin of his chest pull as his hand passes over her hair.

“I thought you were dead,” Y/N whispers. “Chérie rushed me out of my rooms to you. I thought you were dead.” She sobs, violently enough that any shred of anger Aegon harbors for the disregard of her own safety is forgotten.

“I’m going to look in on the children.” Chérie excuses herself.

Aegon whispers, as the doors close, “come round this side.”

“I can’t.” Y/N struggles to draw breath, shuttering as she does.

“I wish to hold you.”

“I will hurt you.”

“Hearing you sob on the floor, while I am no more than a foot away, is worse than any pain I am in. Let me comfort you.” Aegon insists, “please.”

Y/N stands, climbing carefully onto the bed, lying her head on the pillow beside his.

Aegon’s neck aches as he turns his head to face her, left eye swollen shut.

“I do not see where it is safe to touch you,” Y/N admits. The unmarred half of his face now rests against the pillow.

“Rest your head upon my shoulder.” Aegon sighs, “but let me look at you first.” He’s just taken milk of the poppy, enough to dull the sharp edge of pain.

“I am a mess.” Y/N lets out a watery laugh, dragging the back of her hand over her face, mindful of her graze.

“You are beautiful,” Aegon half smiles. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Y/N sucks in a breath, “the small council appointed Aemond as Prince Regent. The smallfolk were discontented in their hunger, I took them to hunt. I happened across a white stag and followed it into the woods. Aemond as well. He drew his sword once we were far enough out though Cole found us before anything happened. I think he meant to kill me.”

Aegon swallows, “you must stay away from Aemond, do you understand?”

Y/N nods.

“When I am well enough-”

“Has he done this to you?” Y/N needs to hear it plainly.

“Sunfyre and Meyles were locked together. There is no way of knowing what his intentions were, but it was Aemond who gave the command.” Dracarys.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You cannot.”

Y/N begins to protest.

“Listen to me now.” Aegon presses on, “I want you out of King’s Landing. I want our children out.”

“No, I will not leave you.”

“Go to your mother on Dragonstone.”

“No.”

“Shh,” Aegon gentles her. “I need you to hear what I am saying to you. This is the only way she can take back the throne. She wants Aemond’s head more than any. It will ensure your safety and the kill. I hate being parted as much as you do, but I cannot protect you here.”

“Who will protect you if I go?”

“My mother.”

“She would stand against Aemond, if it comes to it?” Y/N challenges.

“I do not want you here if it comes to that.”

“Why?”

“I will not have you stand between me and a blade. I will not allow you to be harmed or mistreated. I will protect you and our children at any cost.” Aegon says.

“The White Hart appeared for me,” Y/N is sure of it. “It fled from Aemond, returned for me and I killed it. For you, for our house and our people. I am not weak.”

“My concern is not because you are weak.” Aegon tells her, “at present, you are the largest threat to Aemond. He could end me now with a pillow held over my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen.

“I jest, I jest.”

“I will do it myself if you dare say that again.”

He chuckles, “ah!” The movement is horribly painful. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I promised the girls they could come visit you.” Y/N tells him, lowering her head to his shoulder.

“Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Aegon nuzzles against the top of her head. “They should not have to see me this way.”

Y/N sighs, “you are their father. They love you no matter what.”

“And you?” Aegon whispers, “you would have me still? They say I may never walk again.”

Y/N pulls away to stare at him with furrowed brows. “Aegon, of course I will have you. I love you.”

“I know that you love me.” Same as he would love her with roles reversed, “but will you…desire me? As your husband?”

Y/N presses her lips to his, oh so gently. “Of course. When you have recovered, we shall make up for lost time.”

Again he nods, not entirely convinced. “I should like that very much.”

“I speak true, husband.” Y/N insists. “Surely my body is different now than it was before our babes and you desire me still, do you not?”

“I desire you more.”

“We’re going to grow old together, you and I. In which time we will both surely change, that is the way of things.”

“Your grace!” Chérie calls, rapping her fist against the door.

“Come,” Y/N wills her.

The woman charges in, clearly distraught. “My Queen,” she says, without realizing Aegon is still lucid. The maesters warned his moments of waking will be few and far between. “Something awful has happened.”

“What is it?” Y/N springs from the bed.

“Prince Aegon…he’s been taken.”

“Taken where?” Y/N demands.

“I cannot say, the maids reported two men in hoods. They came with knives, threatened them and took the babe.”

“Bring us Dahlia, Visera and Laenor.” Aegon insists. “Send in the guards, they are to tear apart the Red Keep until my son is found.”

“Of course, my King.” Chérie bows.

Y/N steals the abandoned dagger, making for the door.

“Where are you going?” Aegon calls after her.

“To kill your brother.”

Part 4

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